


Not Like This

by musiclvr1112



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU Yeah AUgust (Miraculous Ladybug), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, ml au yeah august, really sad, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclvr1112/pseuds/musiclvr1112
Summary: AU Yeah August Day 10: Secret Agent AU





	Not Like This

**Author's Note:**

> cw: mentions of death, killing, and blood

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were never supposed to become what you are. Secret Agent, Assassin, Paid Help—people can dress it up in as many pretty names as they want it’s all the same. Murderer.

This was never what you wanted. You were an artist. You used to draw, create. You brought things to life. Now you only kill them.

You never wanted to find this and you never wanted to stay. But wrong turns brought you here and unfortunate circumstances kept you in. Now it’s too late to turn back. It was too late the moment it began.

You never wanted this. No one ever does, but it’s not the same for you as it is for the others you’ve met. You know it isn’t. Some of them knew what they were getting into. Some of them were emotionally suited for it.

All of them have learned to deal with it.

But you haven’t. You never did.

You still remember the first life you ended. You remember how they forced you to do it. How she begged you to do it. Her blood is still on your hands. It doesn’t matter how many times you wash your skin, that stain is permanent.

The others are steeled to it. They don’t feel it anymore. But you? Sure, you’ve dulled to it the slightest bit. But you still cry over every life you take. Later, when you can’t sleep. You’ve lost count of how many it’s been—hundreds, you’re sure—but each one still hits you the same. An empath like you isn’t meant for a life of killing.

And you’ve known this whole time that one day, something— _someone_ —would break you.

But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Just give him what he wants,” you plead through gritted teeth. You can feel his pulse against your fingers tight around his neck—just like you have so many other times—but unlike all the others, his is slow, steady. He isn’t scared. And his eyes—those emerald green eyes that you told yourself not to get attached to—they only hold compassion and warmth as they stare up at you. No terror. No hate. Only love. _“Just give him the miraculous,”_ you urge.

“I can’t do that,” he says, and his voice is gentle in a way you haven’t experienced since you were a child.

 _“Please,”_ you beg. Your grip tightens just the slightest bit. Your voice cracks as the word escapes your lungs and that’s when you feel the first tear fall. Leaning over him as you are, it lands on his cheek and almost looks like it belongs to him. You’re sick and twisted because you wish it _was_ his. You wish he would cry, as others have. You wish he felt afraid. Betrayed. It would make it so much easier if he just wasn’t looking at you like _that._ “Just leave the miraculous and run.” The tears are falling steady and you can hear it in your voice. “I’ll tell him you’re dead. You’ll never have to deal with him—or me—ever again.”

Still he remains as calm as ever with his hands by his head and he’s looking up at you with those beautiful heartbreaking eyes. “I don’t want that,” he whispers.

 _“I don’t want to kill you!”_ you cry.

You weren’t supposed to get attached to anyone. You knew it was going to hurt you when you met him. You told yourself not to let him in, not to grow close. You didn’t know what would go wrong, but you thought that surely somehow _something_ would.

You thought he might be used against you, put in danger. You thought they might find out about him and hold him over your head as they have so many before.

You thought he might die.

You never thought it would be by your hand.

And over something so unassuming as the ring on his finger.

“This isn’t you,” he says, and his tone is so _so_ soft. It strikes right through you. You’ve heard it before. You’ve heard it every night you’ve been with him and you’ve woken screaming from a nightmare—or worse, a memory. He’s never questioned you, never asked what secrets you held. You knew it was because he had secrets too. But why did his have to be the _miraculous._

“No, it’s _not_ me.” Your fingers are trembling. Your voice is trembling. Your world is trembling. “But I don’t have a choice!”

He lifts up his hand then, and you do nothing to stop it as he threads those all too gentle fingers through your hair. Suddenly your cheek is nestled in the warm palm of his hand and you can’t say if he set it there or if you pressed your face into his touch, but either way you can feel your will crumbling away with every second you remain.

“I love you, Nathaniel,” he whispers, and you break, your hands falling loose. You’ve known it to be true for long enough, but you never thought you’d hear him say it. Not like this.

“I love you too, Adrien.”

 


End file.
